


Rumors

by LadyLaurel



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AryaxGendry Week, F/M, Post S8x06, axgweek, marry me now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 13:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20228668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLaurel/pseuds/LadyLaurel
Summary: Gendry wasn’t quite sure how, but, nearly four years after Arya had sailed West of Westeros, all of Westeros was now aware of what had taken place between them in the hours before the start of the Long Night. Not only did every man, woman and child seemed to know, but their relationship had become the favorite subject of every bard, troupe of musicians and band of mummers from Sunspear to the Wall.For Arya X Gendry Week, Prompt "Marry Me Now"





	Rumors

Gendry wasn’t quite sure how, but, nearly four years after Arya had sailed West of Westeros, all of Westeros was now aware of what had taken place between them in the hours before the start of the Long Night. Not only did every man, woman and child seemed to know, but their relationship had become the favorite subject of every bard, troupe of musicians and band of mummers from Sunspear to the Wall.

It had begun as a song that had become popular in Oldtown, an ode to the great Hero of Winterfell. There was just one line referring to their coupling, something about kissing her bastard lord lover goodbye. The song spread to the Westerlands and the Crownlands, taking up in King’s Landing where that one line must have sparked someone’s interest. Soon there was a song devoted just to their love being sung in the new taverns of Flea Bottom. Two versions, in fact, to the same tune, one sweet and melancholic, one ribald and bawdy. Both of those versions, and variations on them, were carried quickly by the sailors and merchants that docked at the port to other areas of the Six Kingdoms and of the North, as well. 

A play was the next edition, coming from the Reach, that had a surprising number of accurate details, including about their time wandering the Kingsroad. It was, though, apparent to Gendry that the playwright had taken some artistic license (Arya absolutely did not prefer dresses and Gendry had never admired King Robert, neither before nor after learning his lineage). Several different versions of that play were taken up by bands of traveling mummers and carried to little villages throughout the realms. At first, these songs and plays were only noticed and loved by the smallfolk, and if it had stayed that way, it might have been fine. But smallfolk do talk to the highborn sometimes, and soon every landed knight and great lady were repeating the many rumors about Arya and Gendry.

It was so tragic, they said. Another Lord Baratheon left pining for another Lady Stark. Perhaps the house was cursed? Maybe in every generation from now, a descendant of Robert Baratheon was doomed to love unrequitedly a daughter of House Stark. Could that be why his lordship had not taken a wife? He feared to enter a loveless marriage just as his father had, to disastrous results for the whole realm? 

The more romantic maidens believed that Gendry was simply waiting for his lady to return. She would come back to him and they would live in their great castle together, for the rest of their lives. The more ambitious maidens (and their parents) hoped that they could turn the handsome young lord’s head, and make him forget he had ever loved another. They had even begun telling him so, at the many feasts to which he was required to host or attend, and in the dark, narrow passageways of castles.

It all made Gendry incredibly uncomfortable and irritated, and he was already uncomfortable and irritated as it was. Prone to grumpiness by nature, being a lord had only soured his attitude towards everything. He had told Arya none of this would mean anything without her, and it was true. While he did get a certain satisfaction from helping his people meet their needs, it was hollow, and despite filling his days with work, there was an emptiness within him that he knew he would not be able to fill. He swore to himself, though, that he wouldn’t try to fill that emptiness the way his father had, and if he could not be happy, he could at least try to be gratified by his life. 

But that wasn’t going to happen if he kept being reminded of what he’d lost, which was constantly now. The whispers, the songs, the plays, it was all too much. And how in seven hells had anyone learned of them anyone? 

Yes, the Hound had known. Gendry wasn’t entirely sure how, but he’d known. Even seemed to approve, as much as the Hound approved of everything. But the Hound wasn’t a talker, and he’d never say anything. Plus, he was dead.

Admittedly, Gendry had told Davos. He had found Gendry destroying a perfectly good piece of steel right after Arya had rejected him. It had helped, to some extant, to have someone to talk to about it all. Davos was like a father, and it was Davos' words to him that had helped Gendry press forward when he just didn’t think he could. Surely Davos would have kept all that to himself….right?

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Well, I may have said something to Marya.”

“You did what?! Why?!”

“She was asking why you hadn’t taken up on those many proposals of marriage that keep coming in. It’s not hard to see that you’re hung up on a woman, so I just … confirmed what she already figured.”

“For fuck’s sake…”

“Now, son, it’s not like she would have said anything to anyone….although…”

“Bloody ‘ells…”

“No, no, nothing to worry about, I’m sure. She does like to gossip, but I doubt she’d repeat something this personal. Ser Brienne wouldn’t say a word, either.”

“Thank the se – wait, what?!”

“ I may have mentioned something to Ser Brienne.”

Fuck. “Why?!”

“She worries about you. I am sure you know she was devoted to your uncle Renly. And she admired the Lady Arya – .”

“She’s not a lady,” Gendry murmured under his breath.

“What’s that, lad?”

“Nothing… No one else, right?”

“Well…..”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Please, Brienne, tell me you didn’t tell anyone.”

“I would never betray Ser Davos’s trust like that, my Lord, nor your privacy.”

“Thank you,” Gendry sighed with relief.

“But Ser Podrick did overhear our conversation, apparently.”

Gods dammit.

“I doubt he would tell anyone.”

“Yeah, no, just all serving girls in King’s Landing.”

“Ser Podrick is a member of the King’s Gu –."

Gendry raised an eyebrow at Brienne. She sighed. 

“I’ll speak to him, my Lord.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In all, Gendry found 25 individuals who had been told all about Gendry’s relationship with Arya. All, of course, were certain it hadn’t gone any further than the two or three individuals they had told. Gendry wasn’t so sure. He needed to know more, because given all those that knew, it still didn’t seem plausible that some random musician in Oldtown could have found out. 

So Gendry went to the one person who would have known. Indeed, who knew everything. 

“It’s good to see you again, Gendry,” King Bran said with a passive smile, though not really looking at Gendry.

“Thank you, your grace, and you. I hope you have been well.”

“As well I can be, I suppose. You, though, have not been sleeping well.”

“Uh, yeah…”

“Dreamwine should help. No strongwine, though. Strongwine has caused enough problems for House Baratheon.”

“Um…what?”

“You have something to ask me,” Bran said flatly. It was a statement, rather than a question in and of itself.

“Yes, I…”

“The rumors about you and Arya didn’t come from you or anyone you told.”

“Alright, then – .”

“I won’t tell you.”

“Why?”

Bran smiled. “You should return to Storm’s End, Gendry. There’s much to do to prepare.”

“Prepare for what?”

“Their arrival.”

“Whose arrival?”

Bran just continued to smile. “You will have a pleasant journey home, I am sure.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And the journey home was pleasant, despite some grumbling from his men when he decided not to stay at any inns along the way. Keeping away from places where folk congregate to drink and sing meant he wouldn’t have to endure the latest song about him and Arya (and endure he would, as it would look far worse if he ordered the songs not to be sung). His men, of course knew better than to sing any of those songs, so he was able to, at least for a bit, forget about the embarrassment that would catch up to him again sooner or later. At the very least, he felt somewhat assured that Bran didn’t seem to think what was said about Gendry and Arya was a problem. 

Upon arriving home, Gendry immediately ordered that the guest rooms be freshened and that the cook take an inventory of their larder so that orders could made for items that needed to be restocked. If someone was coming to Storm’s End soon, he wanted to make sure everything was ready to receive guests. The way Bran had spoken made it seem that whoever was coming was somehow important. Certainly Bran, obviously reticent in cluing others in on what he was able to see of the future, would not have mentioned people coming (he had said “them”) if being prepared was not important. 

For the next several weeks, Gendry busied himself with making Storm’s End as clean and nicely fixed up as possible. Truthfully, the old castle needed it, so many chores having been overlooked for years due to problems caused by the wars. Even when Gendry had taken up residence, he had had to focus on so much else, that he had not thought about how much had been neglected. But now, there was time, and he felt a strong desire to make his castle as warm and welcoming as possible. Windows were scrubbed. Chandeliers were cleaned and outfitted with fresh candles. Tapestries and rugs were taken out and beaten to get out the dust and cobwebs. Rushes were replaced daily. Decayed or broken wood beams or banisters were replaced. 

Consequently, all of this activity lent itself to a fresh round of rumors. Most were saying that Lord Baratheon had finally given up on his great love ever coming back to Westeros, and he simply was preparing to take a wife. Some said he had gone mad, and had convinced himself that she had returned, and he was taking orders from her. These whispers, of course, made their way to the lord himself, and only irritated him. If Arya was returning to Westeros, she’d go to Winterfell or visit Bran in King’s Landing. Besides, certainly Bran would have mentioned something if Arya was coming back…wouldn’t he? Of course he would. And he had said “their arrival”, not “her arrival. 

Gendry put those rumors out of his mind. It was pointless. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After three moons with no sign of any guests showing up to Storm’s End, Gendry began to wonder if Bran hadn’t actually been pulling some sort of prank. It didn’t seem like the king, but then again, the king was very odd; he found many things amusing that others just found confusing. At least the rumors had quieted down, as Gendry showed no sign of madness nor of looking for a wife. For that, he was at least thankful. 

And then one evening, they finally arrived.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Coming into his solar late in the evening after a long day of dealing with far too many mundane matters, Gendry was stopped short by the sight before his eyes. Arya Stark sat in one of the armchairs placed before the room’s hearth. She turned towards him with an apprehensive smile. Gendry gaped at her, not sure what to do or say, doubting that this was real. 

“Hello,” she said as she stood. Gendry couldn’t speak, and just continued to stare. This was real. She was here, right in front of him. 

And different, very different. Her skin was tanned and there were more freckles covering her face. She seemed leaner, more lithe, if that were even possible. Her hair, worn half up, was the longest he’d ever seen it, coming well past her shoulders. It wasn’t just her looks, though, her demeanor had changed. When he had last seen her, she had kept her feelings hidden by a mask which made her seem almost cold and emotionless. She had let it down enough times in front of him to know that it wasn’t the real her, to know that it was the way she protected herself. Now, though, she didn’t seem to feel the need to protect herself. She had a softness to her that had never been there before; she wasn’t hiding her vulnerability. Gendry wasn’t quite sure what to make of this change. Her eyes were fearful, but there was hope as well. Fear of him, he assumed, but hope of what? 

Finally finding his voice, Gendry said, “Hello….what…what are you doing here?”

“You’re not going to ask me how I am first?” Arya asked, raising her eyebrows. 

“Um….how are you?” 

“…well...”

“Is that all?”

“Yes….how are you?”

“Well. Now what are you doing here?”

Arya took a deep breath. “I needed to see you, and I….I missed you.” 

Gendry wasn’t sure how to take that, and he had no idea how to respond. “Okay…”

That didn’t seem to be the response she was looking for, as she slumped her shoulders upon hearing it. She changed her tack. 

“I stopped at Sunspear before coming here. Seems you and I are the new Florian and Jonquil.”

“Yeah, I suppose I am definitely the fool here,” he said bitterly. 

“Gendry…”

“You show up in my rooms late at night with no warning, after years of no word. What do you want from me, Arya?” 

She paused and looked down, doing nothing to hide the sadness from her face. He suddenly felt guilty. He hadn’t meant to sound so hostile.

“I have to tell you something. Can we please talk?”

He sighed. “Of course. How did you get in here anyways? How did you get past everyone?”

“Your guards need better training.”

“Hmf. I suppose so.”

They down in the armchairs before the fire, silent for a time. He watched her, waiting for her to tell him whatever it was she wanted to tell him. A part of him wanted nothing more than to take her on the floor of his solar, then and there, but the other part was too afraid of being rejected once again.

She sighed, before continuing. “You know, I’m sure, that I was going to find what was West of Westeros?”

“Yes…did you?”

“No. We couldn’t. There was a storm and our ship was nearly destroyed. We became stranded on some islands another voyager had discovered a long time ago. Luckily there’s fresh water and animals and edible plants on the islands.”

“Is that where you’ve been this entire time?” He wasn’t sure if this made her being gone all this time better or worse. He felt horrible thinking she had been shipwrecked for so long. 

“Yes….and that’s why I didn’t return when….", she said pleadingly, "Gendry, you have to know, I didn’t know when I left…I would have…”

“Didn’t know what?” Gendry asked, becoming nervous. 

She looked at him and he saw desperation in her wide eyes. She was afraid. Since when did Arya show fear? 

“Gendry….I’m sorry… If I could have come back sooner, I – .”

Before she could say more, there was a soft cry – two soft cries, actually – from beyond the door of his bedchamber. Gendry froze. Arya turned her head quickly to the sound and stood up. She looked back at him as she stood and then rushed to the door.

Gendry sat for a moment, as he began to comprehend what Arya was trying to tell him, what those cries meant. He listened carefully and heard Arya whispering quieting words. Swallowing, he stood and walked to his chamber. 

Arya was sitting on his bed, leaning over two small forms, singing a soft lullaby. He walked closer and saw two little, blacked hair children, a boy and a girl, looking up tiredly at their mother. Their eyes, both a deep blue, fluttered close as the song soothed them to sleep. When they seemed to have finally drifted off, Gendry walked close to the bed. Arya turned towards him. 

“I’m sorry, Gendry. Truly, I wanted to come back as soon as I knew, but the damage to the ship... It took us three years to get it seaworthy again. I….I am so sorry…”

Gendry sat beside her and brought her into her arms. He could feel her tears beginning to wet his tunic. Over her shoulder he watched his two children sleep peacefully and marveled at how he could love them so much despite only just learning they existed. 

“It’s alright,” he whispered, looking down at her, smiling through his tears. “You’re here now. What are their names?”

“Eddard and Argella. I call them Ned and Arry.” 

He smiled at that. “Good names.”

“Gendry, I…I should have said yes.” The words shot through him, and I felt like he should be angry. But he wasn't. He was just happy. 

“It doesn’t matter now.”

“Doesn’t it? We could have been here, happy, with you. We almost died...” Arya's guilt was so strong, Gendry could feel it. 

“You didn't, though, and you're here. We can’t change it, so no, it doesn’t matter. ”

“I should have said yes….” She leaned into his chest once again. 

“Marry me now, then…” he whispered, hopeful. 

She pulled away from him but his arms stayed around her. Looking into his eyes, she smiled, tears running down her face. There were tears running down his as well. 

“Yes,” she whispered, and they kissed for the first time in so many years. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

News traveled quickly across Westeros of the return of Arya Stark, her marriage to Lord Baratheon, and the children she had born him while she was stranded a deserted island. The singers and playwrights overjoyed to have new material with which to create new works. Old songs and plays were rewritten to give them all happy endings. Maidens throughout the realm sighed over how romantic it all was, while highborn mothers and fathers hoped that their virgin daughters would not get any ideas from the couple.

Rumors abounded, of course, of how it all had happened. Some whispered that she had known she was pregnant when she left. Others whispered that the children were not really Lord Gendry’s, though any who saw the twins, and their pure Baratheon looks, rejected that thought at once. Many wondered whether or not Arya had really been stranded all that time, and that, of course, led to many tales about what precisely she had been up to over the years.

Arya and Gendry paid little attention, as much as both hated knowing that so much of their lives was a main topic of discussion in every castle, tavern and hovel from Dorne to the Wall. There wasn’t much they could do about it. Besides, it amused the children

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the news made it’s way north, it came to an inn in the Riverlands. At this inn, there was cook who would, to anyone that would listen, tell all he knew of Gendry Baratheon and Arya Stark. His stories were detailed enough, and he was earnest enough, that it seemed to those who listened that he was telling the truth about how Arya and Gendry had met and all the adventures they had had together.

He even told them about the last time he had seen Arya, right before the sack of King’s Landing. She had stopped at that inn and spoke briefly with the cook. Her companion at the time, a large man with a scar, called the Dog, the cook thought, had let slip a certain details about the cook’s two old friends. Some time after that, the cook relayed the story in front of a traveling singer, who was on his way to Oldtown. The singer was composing an ode to the Hero of Winterfell, and he felt the mention of a doomed romance was just what his song needed.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all, I finished this on a whim at 2am last night and didn't edit' so sorry about the grammer, LOL. That's also why Arya and Gendry reuniting was as short as it is - I needed to sleep! ☺
> 
> Originally I was going to havw Arya be the source of the rumors, but I realized that she's too private for that. But who else likes to gossip and knows much of the Gendrya story? Hot Pie! Then Sandor could fill in the rest. 😊


End file.
